


The Tales of Vahlure

by Tsuyoi_Senshi



Series: The Tales of Vahlure [1]
Category: Herobrine - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Minecraft - Fandom
Genre: Battle, Gen, Herobrine - Freeform, Minecraft, Survival, War, fight, realms, sword - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-09-29 16:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20439047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsuyoi_Senshi/pseuds/Tsuyoi_Senshi
Summary: The tales of a warrior traveling from our world into the world of Minecraft. Her adventure taking her into a war she knows nothing about, with dangers and horrors abounding. A white-eyed monster to add to the mystery of it all. With battles, fighting, and caring, where will this adventure take this simple human.





	1. Chapter 1

**The Tales of Vahlure**

_ Chapter 1 _

_ “The past is never where you think you left it.” _

_ ― Katherine Anne Porter _

  
  


The sound of spawning and the gentle clunking thunk broke the silence as she landed to face that beautiful morning sun. Flowers of blue, pink, and white surrounded her as she gazed up at the tall spruce trees on the edge of the Taiga. A snow-covered gravel mountain rose behind the Taiga landscape as the flowers cascaded into the birch and oak woods below. ‘What a beautiful spot to spawn in,’ She thought. 

She was a simple player with hazel eyes that tended toward a flaming green as she looked around attentively to take in her surroundings. Golden brown hair hung loose down past her shoulders and her pale pink lips were pressed together in a thin line. Her attire was simple, blue jeans, black boots, a black t-shirt, and a blended purple and black vest.

Sighing deep with the contentment at starting a new life, she walked to the nearest Spruce and punched repeatedly at the rough bark of its trunk as log after log broke and broke. All the way up until the leaves began to despawn and drop cute little oak saplings and, as she had hoped, apples. Noting the sun’s position she quickly made a crafting table and placed it upon the grassy earth. Converting all her logs to planks, she made a wooden pick and dug down into the grass until she hit stone and mined 11 cobblestone blocks and some coal she found while grabbing the stone. Then, returning to her crafting table above her, she fastened herself a stone pick and furnace. She broke the crafting table and turned her attention back to her surroundings.

The sun was high in the sky and she easily determined that while she still had half a day to complete her first tasks for survival, she also “only” had half a day to complete the tasks. Moments like these made her anxious to a small degree. While she knew she possessed plenty of time, she felt she needed to get a move on to complete her missions. She shook her head, almost in an attempt to clear it. ‘Missions? Stop thinking like that. That life is over. This is a new place and a new world. Enjoy it. Focus on the now.’

She set out at once, trying to put those thoughts behind her. She trotted through the trees glancing up now and then to check the sun‘s position. She did not want to be awake past the time when the sun kissed the horizon. She sighed, again, a mix of contentment and regret. She shook her head angrily. “Enough!” she snapped aloud then stopped herself-chiding when she spotted a small flock of sheep grazing in a cluster of oak. She grinned for this is exactly what she had been waiting for. Moving forward, she killed the four sheep, made a bed, cooked some mutton and watched the sunset at the beginning of her adventure. Her old realm was behind, to never return to; this was her new home. It had to be better than the old world. It just had to be.

Six weeks passed and she had set up a nice little home not far from spawn. The flower forest led down to a lake where there was plenty of fish and squid. She built up on the side of a small knoll to the east of the lake and cleared out the trees to the west. Where the trees had been she planted crops. Carrots, which she had received a lonely one from a Zombie drop, wheat, and melons; the seeds she had found in a spider spawner cave. What a moment ‘that’ had been! Mining and suddenly the blocks under her were gravel and she tumbled down right at the entrance of the room. It became an interesting battle of dodge and weave and strike. She was still standing with the melons growing so there’s the proof of who won that battle.

The house was simple with oak planks and stripped birch logs. A basic stair type roof was all she needed with oak trapdoors for shutters and purple tainted plane windows. She had ample storage in her basement which she had carved out of the stone and turned the walls into stone bricks. The stone brick walls made her want to build a stone brick castle but that endeavor would have to wait. A stairway led down into a well spaced out mining area where she had already found enough diamonds to make a sword, pick, and almost a full set of armor. She was shy two diamonds for the boots but she would find them eventually. Of this she was certain.

Her kitchen was charming with beautiful spruce table and chair with blue carpet all around. Washbasin, furnace, and chest holding steak, mutton, bread, and melons were off to the side of the doorway. The kitchen attached to the main bedroom which had three of its walls and the ceiling all made of glass. The only wooden wall was stripped birch logs which separated the kitchen from the bedroom. A double blue bed, overkill she knew but it looked nice, was surrounded by spruce trapdoors laid on the ground. Purple carpeting covered the floor and plain black banners hung across the wall.

The room was perfect for resting in when the sun set. She could view across the lake at her crops and see the cattle and sheep pen just beyond that. She had a small chicken coup off to the right of the house out of view. Their clucking at night tended to bother her so ‘out of sight out of mind’ was her thinking.

She entered her room that evening to watch the sunset and stood by the glass wall facing the lake, watching the cows mill around. She crossed her arms pondering. There hadn’t been any sightings of any other Players. Perhaps that wording is incorrect. Any other Players in the sense that she too was a Player but that also wasn’t the case. Not anymore. She sighed thinking back on her history and how that even if she wanted to, there was no possible way for her to return to her Realm. The way was blocked. And it would never open again. She shook her head trying to rid herself of those thoughts. She turned to her bed and sat watching the sun reaching for the horizon. Right as she went to lay down, a flash of light to the north of the lake caught her eye. It was faint but definitely there. Two dots of light in the dark. She squinted, blinked and as suddenly as she had seen them, they were gone. “You’re overtired,” She said to herself, lay down, and fell asleep. She didn’t give thought to the faint specks again until many months later.

Three more months had passed and she now had full enchanted diamond armor and had extended her traveling and adventuring way past the Taiga into the mountains and across the plains beyond. She had found a village nestled in a small valley between three mountains and began trading there. Pleased with the trades, she made a small path that led from the village to her home for easier travel. At that time she had no reason to think that there could be anything hostile in the realm, well besides the normal annoying mobs.

She had taken to caring for the villagers a little. They weren’t very....intelligent, for lack of a better word. After watching a young villager, who she nicknamed “Bobby”, get stuck in the stream flowing to the south of the village crops, she realized how much some protection would help them. Building a fence around the entire place took a little time but it was worth it for she also discovered that they were vulnerable to mob attacks as well. It hadn’t crossed her mind until a lone baby zombie attacked the butcher mid-morning on a bright sunny day. The butcher did nothing and would have perished had she not taken action. This village was where she went for all her trades.

She was on her way back to the village to complete a trade for a book the newest librarian had. He was an odd fellow. He looked just like any other librarian or cartographer except he had a strange crest on his collar. A tiny black square with two white dashes in it. Looked like a square button and she thought it slightly strange. He seemed more intelligent as well. He sought her out in the village and offered trade rather than the other way around. At that time, she thought nothing of it. It was a safer village now after all and he had the best trades.

That day as she reached the top of the mountain which overlooked the village, the first thing she noticed was the fire. Every building in the village had at least one flame block. It was a small fire that would be easily extinguished but she wasted no time but lept from the pinnacle and forward flipped, falling 60 blocks, and landing in the river. A dangerous move but she had perfected such jumps and landings. She dashed up the bank and drew her diamond pickaxe. Leaping over the fence she had hoped to extinguish the fires as quickly as possible all the while in a calculating state of mind as to how the fire started. But even more so, where were all the villagers? They may not be the smartest but there was no way they had “all” perished in such a small flame. The flames themselves had been limited to only the roofs so far.

Then she saw them and the horror froze her in her tracks. There they were, standing by the blacksmith shop, blue jackets, black pants with red belts, awful black hairstyles all slicked back with backward-facing baseball caps. They were... Players. And they both pulled their swords out of the dead villagers at their feet. She was as a statue unable to move as they turned to face her, slightly startled to see another Player there.

They were the first Players she had seen in the many months here. She was filled with all kinds of emotions. Anger, as she watched the two villagers bodies despawn, ‘had they killed them all?’. Confusion, ‘why are they here and where did they come from?’ Fear, ‘I thought I was alone in this realm.’ Then her anger turned to rage and she bit each word out. “What have you done?!”

The identical twin boys glanced at each other and one shrugged and replied, “they had bad trades. What’s the point of keeping them?” The other laughed “Who cares? They’re just NPC’s.”

Everything around her seemed to slow where she could only hear her breathing. Her vision blurred with tints of red. Unconsciously, she switched her pick and sword. Before she had the chance to really think she found her sword clean through the chest of the one who laughed. The second swung his sword towards her and she caught it with the pick in her left hand. A sharp twist and his sword flew out of his hand across the grass. As his sword fell, she swiftly pulled her sword free from the dead player with a forceful shove of her foot against the still body and drove it up through the other Player’s stomach and tossing him onto the ground. She twisted the sword hard to the side as the final twist of death and stepped back as both bodies despawned and their items lay scattered on the ground. As time seemed to resume its normal pace, she was shocked at her rage. But even more so, she was disgusted at their behavior. They deserved the respawn.

Suddenly she heard the sound of a villager taking damage. Turning quickly on her heels in a circle she tried to locate where the sound was coming from. She began to run through the buildings calling out “Is anyone there? Hello?” Each building was empty and the village was full of fire and smoke. It took but a few minutes to find “Bobby” trapped between wooden planks that were on fire. She quickly freed him, yanking the burning cinders away, ignoring the blazing pain in her hands and arms and began dragging him away from the buildings. He grabbed her arm, his brown panic-filled eyes staring up at her, and made the sad sounds of damage and despawned in her arms.

She sank to her knees in dismay. They were all gone. She had failed to protect them, just like before in her world when… she couldn’t complete the thought, it was too much to bear. The fire spread until every block of the village was engulfed. She didn’t notice the smoke and heat, her despair was so deep. She came to herself and looked around and dashed out of the fire and heat to the river. Splashing water on her heated skin, she wiped the soot from her face.

Shaking her head, her shoulders slumped as she turned to walk toward the path that led to her home then stopped in sudden shock. A figure stood upon the mountain above her.

“Another Player.” she ground her teeth in anger.

He had different skin though. Pain blue pants, green shirt, brown hair, his back to her.

She shouted angrily, “You! Haven’t you guys done enough damage? Get the heck out of here!”

She stumbled over a block of cobble and glanced down to right herself, then looking back up realized he had disappeared. She spat angrily and hurried up the path to the top of the mountain, her sword and pick both drawn. Reaching the top, she found herself alone.

The sun was quickly sinking and she turned to look back down over the village where the flames were slowly dying out. She placed her bed and lay down. She stared at the stars unable to fall asleep. Her mind raced as she felt sorrow and anger rise again. Who were those Players? Why? Why had they killed those innocent villagers? What had the villagers ever done to deserve such horrible treatment?

She sat up straight. Someone was watching her. She drew her sword and leaped up placing the sword to the neck of the one who stood at the foot of her bed in the space of time of one breath.

He grunted in surprise. She stepped back quickly. It was that one librarian with the funny button crest. He stared at her with furrowed brows. He reached out his hand, in it an enchanted written book.

She frowned and asked, “What’s this?”

He just pushed it towards her more forcefully. She took it and glanced down at the cover. “Darkness History”.

“What is this?” she asked irritably and looked up. He was gone. “Gragh! What the heck? Where do they disappear to?”

She grabbed her bed. “Screw this.”

She started back down the path in anger, she didn’t care if she had to tear through a million mobs. Everything had changed. She had to get home and prepare. Her quiet life was over. There were Players, awful Players, who felt that they could destroy and kill as they please. She had previously had a feeling that finding another Player would eventually come but with so much time having past she had forgotten about the possibility. She reached home with no issue and in retrospect thought it strange. Not a single mob.

She immediately set to work. Quickly she prepared a secondary set of diamond armor enchanted with protection and thorns, a secondary sword with sharpness five, a flame and infinity bow, a stack of arrows, another efficiency pick, a silk touch pick, and an ender chest. Then stocked her inventory with three stacks of beef and bread combined, a half stack of golden apples, a stack of torches, crafting table, furnace, stack of coal, and two stacks of ender pearls. Placing her extra armor, secondary sword, the other pick, two stacks of food, crafting table, furnace and coal within her ender chest she turned to head out the door.

Sitting on the table by the door was the book she had tossed when she had stormed inside her home. She paused and picked it up.

"’Darkness History.’ What an odd title," she thought aloud. 

She glanced out the window. She hadn’t realized most of the day had passed. The sun was setting yet again and she was reminded that it had been over a day since she had last slept. Needing rest, she could leave in the morning.

Retreating to her room she sank onto the bed. Opening the cover of the book she was immediately baffled. There weren’t any words, just symbols scribbled all over the pages. She flipped through the pages in confusion. As she neared the middle of the book, she flipped quickly, and in frustration, tossed it to the end of the bed. The back cover flipped open and there were eligible words written there. Immediately, she sat at up and read. ‘Sun sets, darkness rises, eyes watching’. She shook her head and sighed and tossed it into her inventory. She’d baffle over it another time.

Closing her eyes, she fell into a restless sleep filled with setting suns, dark starless skies, and bright red eyes hiding in the shadows. She awoke early before the sun rose and felt exhausted but didn’t have time for any more rest. Grabbing a pumpkin pie for breakfast and eating it quickly, she headed out the door and followed the path up the mountain. Halfway up she stopped and turned to look back at her home. She sighed and a forlorn look crossed her face. There was no way of knowing if she would ever return. This wasn’t going to be an easy journey, but justice was due.

She faced the mountain and continued on the path and refused to look back again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On her way to find the players, Vahlure finds herself in the middle of danger

**The Tales of Vahlure**

_ Chapter 2 _

_ “All commitments require sacrifice and hardship.” _

_ ― Adrien Brody _

Many weeks had passed, and she had stopped counting days. She traveled past many villagers plundered and burned. Came across a few Players responsible for the destruction and death… she easily respawned them. Her determination to bring an end to these Players who infested her world, who brought death to all the villagers, both grown and young, spurred her onward, not knowing exactly where she was going, but always following the setting sun. 

The mountain where she stood was covered with gravel and blood was splattered in various spots all around. Confused, she turned to observe the various “drops” from despawned creatures. Bones, zombie flesh, armor of all kinds, and... she frowned, puzzled. Tools, food, ender pearls, and other items usually carried by Players littered the mountain and the steep cliffs below.

She knelt to examine a broken, bloodied sword. As she touched the blood and rubbed a drop between her fingers, she sniffed it. Her brow furrowed and her heart rate increased. She knew mob blood and Player blood. This was different, this was new.

She took a deep breath and straightened, readied her pick in her left hand and clenched her sword tight in her right, and headed toward the top. As she reached the flattened snow-covered peak, she could distantly hear clashing swords and the cries of the wounded.

Crouched, she peered over the edge of the cliff face, anxious about what she might find below. The mountain dropped steeply down, almost at a straight angle. Bubbling water thundered down from a cave below her into the wide river that lapped the base of the mountain. Across the river, what should have been flower covered plains, were filled with battling scarlet bodies, many more than could be counted at that distance.

Her breathing rapidly increased with her heart rate. She couldn’t make them out completely but there were for certain both mobs and Players entangled in fierce combat. She calculated the distance, took five deliberate steps back, then sprinted forward over the edge of the cliff.

~~~

The red-haired iron armor clad Player found himself face to face with the last creature he ever wished to see. With a cry of alarm, he felt the pick driven deep into his chest and he despawned.

The attacking man pulled his pick from the chest of the red-headed Player before him and turned to take in the battle. Blue pants, green shirt, piercing white pupil-less eyes, he had multiple wounds that covered his tense body.

He growled under his breath and from his right eye, wiped blood that dripped from a forehead gash that spread from just above his nose to his dark brown hairline. This wasn’t going as planned. He took in the battlefield with angry spite and spat bitterly. A flash of light caught his eye and his gaze shot up toward the mountain. Diamond blue fell through the waterfall.

‘A diamond player. Great’. He muttered as he cut down three more iron clad players. His attention was drawn fully back to the battle as four diamond clad Players appeared at the top of the hill above the battle. They rode iron armored steeds who pulled at the bits and tossed their heads in frustration at the sound of metal on metal and shout and cries of the battlefield. Glaring angrily, he felt a slight tinge of anxiety. He knew these were the only four diamond clad Players around. Diamonds were so scarce. He had prepared for facing them but now there was a fifth Player.

~~~

The four Players who had appeared were commanders in the Players army. General Granes was a sandy-haired, bearded man with stern eyes. In the group’s center, he twisted in his saddle on his black steed to gesture towards his lieutenant to his right.

“See how he has joined the battle?”

His lieutenant, Cliff, nodded, his piercing blue eyes darting back and forth across the field. “They didn’t see us coming from the north.”

“He’s all flustered, look at him!” Snarled another Player to the Generals left. He rode a gray horse that matched his hair.

“Of course he is, Grey,” the sickly sweet voice came from the fourth who rode beside Cliff. “Everything is going according to plan.” He turned to the General. “It’s almost time.”

The General studied the plain dull brown-eyed man and smirked evilly. “Excellent. We stick with the plan and await the opening at sunset.”

Markus pulled out a twisted shimmering gold sword. Intricate designs of swirls of thorn bushes, daisies, dragons, and eyes of ender covered the sword from tip to handle. The blade itself was twisted and formed so delicately it looked like glass icicles of golden dew on a sunflower in morning. While as beautiful as it looked there was a fierce aura coming from it, evil and dark enough to make the other horses neigh in fear and shy away.

Markus and his black, red-eyed steed, were the only two who did not flinch or draw away from the sword. Markus brown eyes flashed red for a moment and he gazed almost lovingly at the sword. It was unsettling, and the General felt a shiver run down his spine as Markus smiled softly. “Oh, I’m ready.”

~~~

She had landed as planned, through the waterfall and into the river with no more a splash than that which the waterfall made. She swam slowly to the bank then crouched down behind a rock as she heard taunting voices.

A dark-skinned Player, Frank, held the young child by the collar and laughed menacingly, “where’s your Papa scum? Lost in the battle? Wanted to fight with the great hero, did ya?” He threw the little redhead to the ground.

Fierce green eyes glared at him from the ground as the young lad said defiantly. “You’re just a player! He’ll destroy you for what you’ve done!”

A second man, Jack, kicked dirt at the boy who threw up his arm to shield his eyes.

Behind the boulder, her hand gripped the sword so tightly her knuckles were white.

Frank knelt beside the boy. “You ready to find your parents, little man?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. He drew his sword.

“I’m not afraid of you!” His fierce eyes betrayed him.

Jack laughed as Frank brought up his arm and swung his sword.

A flash of bright blue and both players were knocked back into the river. Coming up sputtering they stared in shock at the woman before them, standing protectively over the boy.

Frank still held his sword, a trait learned from years of battle. He stuttered in astonishment. “You... you’re a Player!”

She glanced down at the child who was frozen in a mix of shock and fear. “You okay kid?” He nodded in disbelief.

Her attention turned back to the two Players who warily made their way to the bank, swords drawn, at the ready.

“Who are you?” Jack snapped. “Why do you side with the Natives?”

An eyebrow shot up. “Natives?”

Frank frowned, “Whatever, you blasted Native-lover!” He leapt at her, an expert swing closed down as his partner came in from the side in another attack.

She sighed and blocked Frank with her sword, Jack with her pick. With a strength that startled them, she pushed them both back and snapped, “Get out of here kid!”

~~~

The young boy scrambled up the side of the hill and glanced down at the woman battling. ‘Who was this girl?’ He wondered. He didn’t have time to ponder it anymore for the top of the hill was only a stone’s throw from the edge of the battle. He yelped and dove back down the bank as arrows landed dangerously close.

~~~

“Why do you attack children?!” She yelled angrily and blocked attack after attack. She was frustrated and didn’t want to harm them but it had become monotonous.

She inwardly groaned, having noticed the boy’s return down the bank. Hearing the battle intensifying and coming closer, she knew she couldn’t keep holding them off while worrying about the boy.

The Players had refused to answer and just rained attack after attack. Both were skilled fighters, but she knew she was better.

“Enough!” She exclaimed and then went offensive. She took but a minute to cut down Jack and leave him wounded with no weapon. He fell to the ground as she turned her full attack on Frank. Frank was more skilled and she had to lay a variety of blows before she plunged her pick through his skull. He fell to his knees before her, his angry brown eyes glared. He spat, “Traitor”, before despawning, his items scattered.

Breathing hard she turned to Jack who had attempted to scramble backward up the embankment. Her eyes flashed up to glance behind him in slight surprise. Suddenly a sword was at his throat from behind. His heart stopped for a second as he realized it was the boy.

“This is for Mom.” The boy whispered and cut him through. He rose and stared at the pile of items then looked up as she quietly approached.

She extended her hand, palm up, gesturing for him to hand her the sword. He hesitated, staring at this Player. Then handed it to her. She was silent staring up the embankment.

In a still voice, she asked. “Where are your parents?”

He stared at his feet. “They respawned Mom as she tried to protect me. Dad’s somewhere in the field.”

She frowned. Turning she knelt and rinsed off the swords and her pick. She rose and sighed. “Is there a safe area you can go?”

He nodded hesitantly.

“Where?”

“Like I’d tell a Player!” He said both scared and angrily.

She looked puzzled and stared at him. “I take it then you are a... Native?” She had noticed the absence of a gamer I.D. tag yet had attributed it to the “hide nametag” feature some player’s used. Now she realized that the absence of the name tag meant that the being was a Native.

He stared right back. ‘Did she really not know what a Native was?’ His eyes widened, and he took a shaky step back. ‘She must be trying to trick me! Dad said there were snakes in the Players!’ Then he glanced at the items scattering the ground and how she had responded to his attackers. ‘But she saved me.’

She could see his distress and sighed deeply. Something was wrong. Very wrong. But she didn’t know what.

“What’s your name kid?”

He hesitated again. The sudden scream of someone just up the embankment caused both of their attention to focus upward. A handful of Players appeared and drew bows. Without hesitation, she dashed forward and grabbed the boy, throwing him and herself into the river. Intending to use her body to shield him from the barrage of arrows, she swam away quickly, pushing him along. She was almost out of range when the arrows started to fly.

A short way down river she pulled him to the shore. He lay gasping for air, staring at the ground in shock. ‘She saved me again. Why?’ He glanced up and his breath caught.

She had taken an arrow in the back and gritting her teeth she pulled it out. She tossed it angrily on the ground and stomped on it. ‘This is so stupid! What the heck is going on here?’ Aloud she snapped, “Mobs? Players? Natives? What is going on here?”

“Bobby.”

She froze at his voice, her eyes stared unseeing at the ground.

“My name is Bobby. I’m a Native within the army of the great Lord Herobrine.” He said simply, suddenly trusting this Player. “My Dad is a Lieutenant and my Mom was a Healer. I’m still training with a sword. The mobs are in temporary alliance to fight the Players who invade this realm.”

She looked up at him, a face filled with sorrow. “Bobby.” She paused and swallowed. “How old are you?”

He didn’t understand her expression. “Ten.”

She shook her head and looked up at the sky, taking a shaky breath. ‘A child. He’s just a child’.

He watched her trying to read her. She had been upset, that much was certain. When he had told her his name, she had suddenly changed. She went from upset to a form of rage, he wasn’t sure what to think. He had seen this before when his Dad had spoken of the upcoming battle and how he wasn’t certain if it would go the way Lord Herobrine had expected.

She stood apparently lost in thought. They were downstream and always behind the battle. However, the shouts pulled her out of her thinking. Glancing back towards the commotion, she inquired. “Where’s a safe place you can go?”

He paused then pointed at a far hill. It was on the other side of where the battle was taking place. She sighed. “Let’s get you to safety.” She handed him a sword. It startled him. “Use your training. Let’s hope you don’t have to.”

She scrambled up the embankment to the plain and judged the distance. They were a good ways behind the battle but the cost of it littered the ground. She grimaced but quickly made her way across the field, watching for danger and keeping a close eye on him. He followed her, still uncertain.

They reached the bottom of the hill with no trouble and she determined it was safe. “I take it the camp is on the other side?”

He nodded but as she started up, he exclaimed “No! They’ll kill you if you approach.” She stopped and stared at him inquisitively. “You’re a Player,” he said simply.

She nodded, not really understanding but respecting his knowledge. “Get to safety. I’m going to see what I can do.” She turned to go.

“Wait!” She turned to him. He swallowed hard and continued. “If you see my Dad tell him I’m okay? His name is Craig.”

She frowned and nodded. “What’s he look like?”

He grinned. “Just like me.”

An eyebrow shot up. “Okay, Bobby. Now get to safety.” She turned to go.

“Wait!”

She groaned and turned back.

“Thank you.”

“Get going!” She gestured frustrated towards the hill.

He obeyed quickly and raced up the hill towards the encampment.

~~~

She reached the rear edge of the battlefield and crouched behind a grove of trees to observe the lines of fight. Skeleton archers stood at the left of the field raining arrows on the Player archers who returned the barrage. To the right of the skeletons, what had been a hoard of Zombies was now a few scattered undead fighting alongside a group of what she assumed were natives.

The middle was full of strong native fighters, she knew this by that being where numerous Players focused their attack. Such a massive group she wasn’t certain if this was something she should join in. Then she saw him. It was easy to pick him out of the large sea of dark-haired Natives. One of a few redheads in the center.

Sighing in frustration, she realized that to pass on the message she’d have to join the battle. Shaking her head, she readied herself. Turning she dashed back, keeping herself undercover until she neared the back of the right lines. Then she launched herself headlong into the engagement.

The first group of Natives she joined almost panicked to see a diamond-clad Player run through them from behind but were more puzzled when she mowed through the six players they had been tangling with. She didn’t acknowledge them but advanced through the lines. Natives from all sides startled at first, some even raising swords against her. She’d dodge and weave, but never raised her sword or pick to them, but rather cut down or assisted in the despawning of whichever Player was fighting them.

At the start of her trip into the field, it had been fairly easy to cut through the Players and avoid the Natives, but as she advanced through the lines, she received more and more resistance from both sides. She growled as she began having to block Native’s blows and continue to tangle with the Players. It seemed a constant, block a Native, get in a couple strikes at a Player, block another Native, finish the Player, turn away from the confused Native and move on to the next challenge. A continuous battle. As she neared the center of the battle it became harder and harder to resist the Natives attacks. Often it became a barrage of blows from multiple at once with her simply on the defensive. She’d push them back to turn an attack on a Player and it befuddled those who had advanced against her but they didn’t question, only turning attacks on another Player. She grew tired of the monotonous movement and was getting angrier and angrier with having to block Natives and cut down Players and repeat. The angrier she got the stronger her attacks became and the more energy she spent. She grew exhausted.

~~~

Cliff frowned, “General, there’s a diamond-clad Native...”

Grey leaned forward in his saddle. “What do we do? We hadn’t expected one of them to have armor.”

General Granes frowned and glanced at Markus, unsettled by the menacing grin that crossed his face. “Continue as planned. One diamond Native isn’t going to stop this plan”.

Markus glanced at Granes. “We need to make the advance now. Not at sundown. This Player changes things.”

The General peered across the field at the only diamond clad one moving in fierce battle. “How do you know it’s a Player?”

A dark look shadowed his face and Markus said in a husky voice. “Because I’ve seen her before.”

~~~

He spun and caught the blades of the two Players who brought their enchanted iron swords down upon his pick and sword. He deflected and delivered the finishing blow to one through his skull and knocked the second down.

An arrow lodged itself into the fallen Players forehead and he despawned. Herobrine didn’t bother looking. His lieutenant was well trained and knew how to handle himself with both sword and bow. Even then, the redhead switched between sword to slice down a Player, to bow and shoot an attacker who approached a struggling Native from behind. He switched quickly, holding his ground. Others were being driven back.

Herobrine grew angry. He had grown weary though he’d never admit it to anyone. He had been forced to use some power moves and yet the Players kept coming. Greed and hate motivated them and they wanted this entire Realm for themselves. Having spent the last 3 months in constant motion, he had directed the evacuation of villages, trained countless young warriors, and been in a cycle of attacking and retreating. More retreating than anything. So many had been lost. The numbers added to the Native army were so few in comparison to the hundreds of Players that continued to join the enemy ranks on a daily basis.

He signaled retreat to the lieutenant when he saw his two commanders fall across the field, overwhelmed from the east. He quickly ascertained that they were overwhelmed on almost three fronts and if did not retreat quickly, would be surrounded and his people slaughtered.

Then he saw her and he ground his teeth together. The diamond Player had come from the south and cut through so many Players. He didn’t hesitate and moved to intercept her, his pick sparking.

A commotion arose from the front line as Players suddenly surged forward hard towards him, forcing his attention. Four horses galloped from the hill, their riders in full diamond enchanted armor. These were the leaders he knew, and he immediately started cutting through the Players who now furiously focused their attention on him.

Lieutenant Craig was pushed back to the center, almost back to back with Herobrine. “There’s too many. We can’t fall back quickly enough.”

There was a shout from behind them as a Native cried out in alarm. Herobrine saw her again, her pick and sword blocked against two Native attackers. She was but a short distance away. Craig drew his bow and aimed.

Blood ran into her right eye from a gash by her hairline. Her chest plate had broken and was long gone, her left sleeve was soaked with blood. A fierce fury was written all across her face as she pushed her attackers back and stumbled, falling down to one knee. Her weapons were at the ready, but she did not attack. She spat blood and said in an exhausted angry statement. “Hey, redhead. Bobby’s safe.” Then threw up her pick to block another attack.

~~~

Craig did not loosen his grip upon the bow but spun around to face the front lines and fire into the attacking Players. His mind reeled at the fact that this player knew who Bobby was and told him this fact. That she did not attack the Natives but simply blocked and cut through any Player who got in her way. Who was this? He didn’t have time to consider beyond these fleeting thoughts as the surging Players rained blow upon blow on the strongest Native warriors, driving them back until he and Herobrine were indeed on the very front line.

Herobrine didn’t have time to deal with her either as he turned his attention back to the diamond riders who neared the front line and rode over both Natives and Players, no concern for either. Their attention was solely on him.

She pushed the native back and glanced up, eyes suddenly widened in shock as she looked past the warriors before her. ‘No...it couldn’t be.’ She gasped. Springing forward, she rushed into action.

Markus blocked multiple arrow shots as he barreled forward and swung his golden sword towards Herobrine.

Herobrine raised his pick to block the attack, electric energy crackling in the air.

Her sword raised, she leapt to knock Herobrine to the side as Markus struck with the golden blade. Her sword shattered at contact with the blade and she was thrown backward from the blast into Craig.

~~~

Herobrine straightened, angered at her obstinance. He had only a second to take in the sudden changes. The shattered diamond sword, the rider turning for another attack, the other riders who had been neutralized and respawned, the Players who upon seeing their fallen leaders started a hasty disorganized retreat to which the Natives surged forward to cut through them, and her, struggling to her feet, blood flowing down her face and chest from where the shattered diamonds had struck and embedded themselves. Her helmet and boots now were gone and he could see the cracks in her leggings. One more hit and she would be armorless. She swung her pick, eyes blinking to see through the blood, angered gaze fixed on the remaining rider.

~~~

Markus spat. She had blocked him but the power of his sword was glorious. One strike would be all it would take.

He charged his horse forward, not caring about the arrows flying and striking him. His horse stumbled and fell forward with a crying neigh and despawned. He rolled off and came up on his feet and lunged at her. His sword clashed with her pick which she threw up to block him. It was as before, the pick shattered and she was thrown back. He spun to face Herobrine who was cutting through a few brave players who still attempted a surge. Within seconds his sword swung down against Herobrine’s pick which, though stronger than that of other Players and Natives, broke under the strike and push both back with the force of strong wind.

Markus glanced down and saw the crack forming that ran from the tip of the blade down to the hilt. He estimated he could strike 3 more times before it broke completely. He had to make it count.

Herobrine cut through the last of the foolish Players who swarmed him with his nearly broken sword and stumbled slightly. His wounds were growing and blood flowed freely from a wound in his right shoulder down his arm and mixed with the blood of Players dripping from his fracturing blade. He turned to face Markus as the angry Player rushed forward for another attack. The Natives were cutting through the last of the braver Players and pursuing the fleeing ones so now his attention was fully on this Player.

Markus brought his sword down again and there was an audible crack in the sword. The force again threw them both back in opposite directions and Herobrine tossed his broken sword to the side. His fists clenched, and he struggled to his feet attempting to summon enough energy in his hands to take on this overpowered Player.

Markus growled and pulled himself up. Last time. He knew his body couldn’t handle another blast. This strike had to count. He calculated where to strike as he sprinted forward using the raging adrenaline that had built up. Herobrine took a step forward and found he had no strength, falling to one knee. Markus was nearly upon him.

~~~

Everything seemed to slow for Herobrine as he took in the surroundings in a shadowy muffled haze. Craig turning with a silent shout of alarm and aiming his bow at Markus. The female Player struggling to her feet, armor gone, covered in blood. Markus’ sword aimed for his heart and him leaping forward to strike. Her movement knocking a dropped pick toward him as she threw herself forward in an attempt to knock him out of the way. The fatigue and wounds making her movement clumsy as she fell right in front of him as Markus struck. The sickening sound of sword slicing through muscle and bone. The look of horror, anger, and shock on Markus face as she fell, the sword embedded in her stomach and out her back.

Rushing senses as time resumed with the sound of Craig’s shout and the stench of metallic blood, sweat, and fear as Herobrine grabbed the pick and crushed it into Markus skull as Craig’s arrows found their mark in Markus back. Markus defiant angry eyes glared as he despawned.

He turned to glance at the woman who lay on the ground unmoving, the sword protruding from her. Her unseeing eyes were wide in shock. He stepped toward her and she disappeared. Startled he looked around. No drops, no sign of despawning, just... disappeared. 

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vahlure died tragically and now what can happen? Herobrine must begin the work of moving the armies and finding the lost natives who respawned. Bobby's mom is found. But, what now?

**The Tales of Vahlure**

_ Chapter 3 _

_ “The dead cannot cry out for justice. It is the duty of the living to do so for them.” _

_ ― Lois McMaster Bujold _

  
  
  


Merida rose and stared at her surroundings. Tall with dark hair, pale skin, and fierce brown eyes, she wore a sleeveless short plain brown dress with black leggings. She turned and headed down the path from where she respawned. She knew this terrain and the location of the closest safehold. The pending sunset increased her pace. She wished to arrive at Belposto before dark as she was unequipped to fight any mobs and knew any attempt would cause another respawn and she didn’t have time for that.

The sun kissed the horizon as the mountains which covered the village came into view. She quickened her pace to a slow jog once she saw the path and hurried down the ravine to wave at the guard who stood upon the village guard tower. He shouted down to the ground and two Natives pushed the village gates open; she entered quickly as they closed the doors behind her. The sweet smell of dark oak and fresh pumpkin pies waffled around. The redstone lamps shined brightly and cast odd shadows across the pathways. The large overhanging cliff that loomed over the village offered a safe yet terrifying feel. Yet it was the hidden seclusion of this village that made it one of the havens for the respawned to retreat to.

She reached the inn and entered. Other respawneds who gathered around the fire rose as they recognized her. She was one of the best healers in the armies of Lord Herobrine and although she knew that, she never belittled other healers believing that one day they too would rise to be as skilled a healer as her.

Laying down upon a bed provided for her she sighed thinking of Bobby. He would have respawned by her but didn’t, so she knew he must have survived. She had made sure that whenever he respawned he would respawn where she would; that way she could always find him. It was part of her skills. Few knew she could manipulate code as she could and Lord Herobrine preferred it that way. The danger it could place her in… she feared little yet the thought of being manipulated in some way to harm anyone…she shuddered. She knew a commanding officer would come soon to retrieve them and bring the respawned back to the army. She only hoped that the battle had been productive.

~~~

Wounded natives groaned and the soft cries of family members who had lost their loved ones filled the bivouac as Herobrine walked quietly down its center. He was checking in on the officers to see how each encampment was doing. Each group reported at least half fallen and a fourth wounded. In all, nearly seventy percent of the army had fallen.

The respawned would need to be regathered for the next battle. Those whose young family members respawned would want to find their loved ones. Hopefully, many of the respawned made it to the safe city of Ritiro. However, he knew that some would be unable to locate their family members and would request discharge, unable to continue on after such a tragic loss, especially if they were still very young, having just reach adulthood. 

He was troubled. Shaking his head, he could not get the images out of his thoughts. Her eyes, unafraid. Her movements, that of a warrior. The attacker, his stance, his hatred. That sword... what was it about that sword that sent a shiver down his spine? He’d never admit that shiver, the twisting in his gut, that something was terribly wrong.

Making his way towards his Lieutenant’s location at the center of the camp, he formulated the next plan of action. He had to get the remaining troops to safety, that was certain. The lower-ranked officers would not carry the authority needed to lead the remaining troops to safety. He would have to send Craig to lead or lead them himself while the other went to round up the respawneds from the regroup villages across the land.

He found Craig looking around anxiously. Frowning, Herobrine’s eyes searched the area and spotted a group of Healers assisted by a young boy. Herobrine gestured in the boy’s direction. “Go. See your son. We have much to do. Please do not delay.”

Craig sighed with relief when he saw his son and gave a curt thankful nod to his Lord. Bobby assisted a young woman who had taken an arrow in the shoulder. Craig rushed over and placed a hand on his son’s shoulder. Bobby glanced up, “Dad!”

Bobby found himself engulfed in a tight hug. He gasped out a muffled “Dad” before Craig released.

Both regained their composure. “You are safe.” It was more a statement than a question.

He nodded, then glanced around and behind his dad as if looking for someone.

Craig frowned.

“Yes, that Player, she saved me after two of them respawned Mom.” He sighed as his Dad flinched. Then he asked quietly. “Did that Player get to you?”

Craig nodded, his frown deepened.

Bobby sighed. “She left, didn’t she?”

Shaking his head, Craig said simply. “She took a respawn.”

Bobby’s gaze was fixed downwards, and he nodded. “I guess it’s just as well. She was a Player after all.” He didn’t sound convinced.

Craig sighed. “I must attend to other matters for the retreat and regroup. Lord Herobrine requires all commanding officers to meet at the center encampment. I just wanted to see that you were okay ... as she said.”

His son nodded; the frown hadn’t left his face.

The Lieutenant turned and went to meet with the commanders, his mind turned over the Player’s words, her actions... who was she? Why had she saved his son? Why had she taken the sword for Lord Herobrine? This puzzle would have to wait until after they figured out the next phase of this war. It had been a strange victory that was unexpected. But they would take it either way. Now to begin the next phase.

A commotion came from the end of the encampment and he noticed a group of respawneds entering. His breath caught as he looked for his wife.

The grayed and grizzled Commander Coles' arrival brought hope and satisfaction to Herobrine. Coles' wisdom in battle tactics and ability to make difficult decisions quickly combined with his ferocious hatred of Players gave them many victories that would never occurred without the long-term Warrior. "News?"

"Sir, after I located the Player's encampment, I found many respawned from their trail and brought them here."

"Excellent," Lord Herobrine responded as he smiled for the first time in days.

His mind rapidly formulated a plan. Turning to his Lieutenant, who wore the face of disappointment at the failure of locating his wife, he shook his head sighing. Herobrine motioned him to join the circle of officials. They had much to do.

The next day, Herobrine's army prepared a calculated retreat. Four small groups prepared to scout out the Players camps and to find and relocate other respawned in the safe villages. From the remaining army and the respawned who had returned, over one hundred had requested leave, all those with fallen family members. He sighed. There was little that could be done concerning those misfortune. At first light, all group set out.

~~~

Merida frowned and rose from her seat on the healer Gracie’s porch, as she saw the riders approach. She had recognized Craig immediately but was confused as to why Lord Herobrine would come to retrieve the respawned. It wasn’t his normal method. Something big must have happened. She stepped down from the porch with a curt polite nod at her Lord then addressed them.

“Lord Herobrine, Lieutenant Craig. The respawned await for immediate departure.” Her forehead furloughed as she realized her Lord paid little attention to her words but rather turned back and forth looking around as if he searched.

He sighed frustratedly. “Very well. Prepare for departure.” He turned to stare at her.

She trembled slightly at the eyes but spoke with courage. “Yes, sir. May I ask of the battle?”

He didn’t respond but rather frowned, his gaze turned toward the ground, deep in thought.

Craig responded. “Merida... the battle was won. The Players were driven back as far as Gustos. Many rage quit.” She wondered at his sad smile.

“This is great news, yet I sense something is wrong. Were you injured... “she paused summoning courage, “in your coding?” She could see some of the wounds that weren’t covered by armor, which although tended to, still required a deal of time to heal.

He straightened in his saddle his expression returned to its normal serious, stern leader expression. “I am recovering. Shawnee did a good job with healing.” He turned his horse and said over his shoulder. “Lieutenant, prepare the respawned. They must set out immediately for Perso.”

Craig nodded and swung down from his horse. He stood in front of Merida and smiled softly. “I’m glad to see you.” He pulled her into a gentle warm hug.

She sighed, and she rested her head against his armored chest. “I’m glad you are alright.”

She pulled away, regretfully, as she wished to remain in his embrace. But not wasting time was of utmost importance and there was work awaiting her. “Bobby?” She asked quietly. She knew that if he had been respawned Craig would not be so relaxed.

Craig nodded, his demeanor returned to that of a Lieutenant. “Safe with the troops. Headed to Perso as we speak.”

“Very good.” She led him to where the group of respawned awaited.

Commander Herald, an older Native with a grizzled, scarred face that was always in a deep scowl, snorted when Craig entered the room. “Bout time. What’s the orders?”

“Regroup at Perso.”

Herald nodded.

Craig sighed. “You will lead the group. No stops. Straight onward until you reach the flower fields at the Forte mountains. Then take the Rocc pass through. Head straight to Perso from there. Don’t delay.”

Herald spat. “Rocc? You serious, sir? That will delay us by at least a day.”

Craig nodded. “That delay is a must, for reasons we cannot discuss. Prepare and depart immediately.”

Herald nodded curtly. “Yes, sir.” Then turned to begin barking out orders to the men.

Merida followed Craig out of the house and back to his horse. “You will not accompany us?” It was more a statement than a question.

Craig shook his head. “No, Lord Herobrine and I must attend to... another matter.”

Herobrine rode up at that moment and glanced down at Merida who immediately nodded in respect.

“Healer, you will be needed. Prepare a horse and your supplies. We ride when the sun peaks.”

She glanced up briefly at the sun and then obeyed. She informed Herald of her departure and collected her supplies and retrieved a horse from the armorer.

Swinging into the saddle she rode to meet Lord Herobrine and her husband and they departed without a word.

~~~

Merida listened with keen interest as she tried to absorb and process all the information her husband shared. Lord Herobrine had remained quiet for most of the day’s ride, his attention focused on something she could not see.

‘A Player, female, rescued her son? Took on a large number of Players? More than Craig could have done on his own while under attack from other Natives, without laying a mark upon any of the Natives?’ She shook her head in disbelief. Had any other shared this information she would have thought their coding scrambled. But Herobrine’s silence as they traveled and Craig’s seriousness, showed her the truth in such matters. After Craig shared with her the details of the battle he grew quiet and they rode in silence for nearly half the day before she ventured a question that had been eating at her. “Where are we going? We are not heading towards the retreatment.”

Herobrine let out an audible sigh which surprised her.

”We seek this Player. She seemed to know of the attacking Players and could have key information to the advancement of this battle.”

She wasn’t surprised. Her Lord always was thinking ahead. “And you need me…”

“She was wounded by a sword not from this Realm and may require… healing.” Herobrine said simply.

”Ah.” She now understood.

As they rode for several days, the details of the battle came under scrutiny in discussions. The Players' withdrawal and retreat also received much review. The female’s involvement had helped turn the tide in the battle and the resulting quitting of many of the Players had quite possibly helped turn the tide in the war. Much needed to be seen on how everything would play out in the upcoming days.

They rode through various villages, finding respawneds who hadn’t located a safe haven yet, and sent them with direction to either regroup with the army or to head to the safe city of Ritiro if they requested discharge. It was not surprising how many wished to be released. The cost was great no matter which way one looked at it. It was being between a rock and a hard place as the lives of everyone were at stake, yet the prospect of losing one's family member…. it was difficult for many to make such a decision. Herobrine respected the bond of family. He couldn’t say no, although the prospect of losing more warriors caused him to groan inwardly at every request.

Four times they came across a Player who was new to the Realm. Herobrine gave them a good reason to seek another Realm and never return. Merida always was slightly amused at the tactics he used although she would never admit it. Craig always looked slightly disturbed, which is why Herobrine never enlisted his help.

The latest entanglement with Players brought Herobrine into his saddle with a low curse. "Nether take it to the Void." Merida raised an eyebrow and glanced at Craig who shook his head slightly in confusion.

“What is it, my Lord?”

“It is nothing of importance.” His frown covered his face and even his eyes seemed to smolder with a frown.

Craig’s brow furloughed, and they continued their journey in silence for nearly half the day.

Herobrine suddenly let out a frustrated sigh and explained. “You understand code better than any others in this Realm Healer, and you know of the trail specifically left by Players.” She nodded. “Any Player I have been in immediate physical contact with, I can trace that one’s digital signature to their location. If a Player’s signature cannot be sensed to trace, then I assume they have left the Realm. It is not an easy process and requires a great deal of focus and attention.” He drew a deep breath and slowed his horse to a stop, his gaze fixed intently upon the ground.

Merida and Craig stopped and stared at him. Suddenly it made sense to her. “She is still in the Realm and you can find her.”

His gaze turned to her and he nodded once. Craig was at a loss for words.

“We have traveled this way for more than one purpose. We needed to locate straggler respawneds and… I am attempting to locate this female Player.”

He spurred his horse forward, and they continued in silence.

~~~

It had been almost three months since they had set out. Along the way, they had received word that the remaining Players had retreated to the farthest eastern edge of the continent. This brought an immediate sense of relief to the group. They had also met up with Heather and Celest, two warriors who had been respawned early in the battle in the frontal assault.

Blonde and green-eyed Heather specialized in sabotage as she caught details with sharp eyes and a quick mind. Celest was dark hair, brown eyes, with such a plain quiet demeanor, one wouldn’t realize how dangerous she was with a bow and explosives. The two worked well together often as Heather scouted the area, infiltrated the camp, and sabotaged critical weapons and equipment-including food.. Then Celest would come in and take out the guards and archers then remove a large amount of the camp with well placed TNT while the rest of the camp dissolved into confusion..

Multiple times, Herobrine sent the group ahead so he could attend to other communications or meet up with other troops. He always returned and joined them as they traveled as he was the only one who could trace the Player’s signature.

Their journey took them to the top of a gravel mountain which overlooked the remains of a charred village tucked neatly between three mountains. Suddenly, Herobrine remembered the place from nearly a year ago. He shuddered and spurred the horse across the top of the mountain and across the other two heading down a neatly made path through the forest. Startled, the others followed, uncertain of what exactly happened.

Herobrine pulled up when he saw the house by the lake. He dismounted and scouted the area. Craig drew his bow and the others drew their swords in caution.

The sound of a maniacal laugh echoed across the lake at the base of the gravel mountain near the taiga. Taunting voices could be heard as the group edged their way around the edge of the birch woods and towards the field that separated the white-barked trees from the towering spruce.

As they reached the edge of the field, Merida took in a sharp breath and Craig’s eyes widened in shock and disbelief. The once beautiful flower covered field was wrought with craters, arrows, zombie flesh, and… blood. At the far edge of the taiga, a group of Players were in a circle around what, the group could not see. They moved in closer to see it was…. her.

It was appalling and horrifying. The golden sword was embedded in a blackened hole in her chest. Black dried blood encased her chest and fresh blood dripped down her arms and body where she knelt; dull expressionless eyes stared at the Void. The battle wounds still oozed after all this time. A Player with bright red hair twitched the arrow still shoved into her left shoulder. She shuddered and shook in pain,the clear sounds of pain from damage reached the ears of Herobrine's group.. In horror, they watched as she despawned. The group broke into laughter.

Celest and Craig both drew their bows as Heather and Herobrine drew their swords. They all stopped as the gentle thunk of a Player spawning into a Realm sounded. The wounded Player landed in front of the group, sword embedded in her chest, eyes pained. Again, the anguished sounds of her pain came as the sword embedded in her began to harm her and she slumped to her knees. The Players taunted her and one said loudly, “Potions of weakness this time?”

Craig and Celest loosed their arrows and eliminated their intended targeted Players. Herobrine and Heather were upon the group before they realized what happened. They made very short work of the standing Players. Four bound, gagged Players upon the ground trembled in fear at the attack, more afraid of the attackers than the Players who had tormented them. Herobrine ignored them as he yanked his pick from the despawning redhead. Heather knelt to free the four Players while Craig and Celest took defensive positions in case other Players were hidden within the trees or if other Players would arrive.

Merida rushed to the Player’s side. “No” she exclaimed under her breath. The fool of a Player had already managed to hit the wounded female with the potion of weakness before Herobrine sliced him in half. The female Player shuddered, as she fell to her side, convulsed in pain before despawning yet again.

Merida tossed her bag down and yanked out potions of healing and regeneration out quickly. “I may need help removing the sword.” She stated simply.

The Player respawned in again and once again, fell to her knees in excruciating agony. Merida grabbed the sword and cried out in pain, as her hands burned from the embedded enchantments. Herobrine, startled, pushed Merida back and grabbed the vile thing ignoring the searing sizzling burn in his palms and pulled on the sword to find it stuck fast.

Her dull eyes slowly turned up to look at him. Soulless… blank… devoid of hope. He paused as his glowing eyes met hers and they looked into each other. Then, in a move that startled the others, he shoved her down flat on her back, placed his foot on her chest, and with a look of pure anger and hate, he yanked the sword free. The golden sword disintegrated into ash in his bleeding burned palms. Fresh bright blood spurted from her chest as Merida quickly applied pressure to the wound and poured the potions down her throat. A few drops of blood from Herobrine’s hand fell into the wound in her shoulder and sizzled.

Her expression changed as she stared up at the blue sky and Merida poured the potions down her throat. Pain, sadness, and… despair.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vahlure is rescued but the damage is great

**The Tales of Vahlure**

_ Chapter 4 _

_ “It’s not always just the heart. Sometimes your mind breaks as well..” _

_ ― R.H. Sin _

  
  


_ Startled, she respawned with the gentle thunk sound as she did at the start at the start of the day; the difference from that time to this was the searing pain that shot through her entire being. The sword protruded from her chest, while the blood from many wounds dripped down and pooled around her feet. She slumped down, and with a cry of pain grabbed the hilt of the sword as she tried to pull it free. It did not move; only exponentially increased her pain. She took damage slowly as she fought to remove the sword as her cheeks streamed with tears. Her shoulder and chest wounds burned as the salt from her tears mixed with dripping blood from above her eyes.. The sun was high in the sky when she reached half a heart, dropped her hands in despair at her failure and died. _

_ Moments later... She respawned back in and once again struggled with impaled sword stuck fast in her chest. All that afternoon she fought to free herself. The repetitious respawns showed her repeated failures. _

_ Near sunset, she dragged herself to the nearest tree to attempt to use it as leverage to remove the sword. Her weakened body collapsed against the tree as she neared the last of her hearts yet again when she heard the undead groans coming from within the forest. Her heart nearly stopped with fearful recognition as she died... again. _

_ Her respawns that night and nearly every night thereafter ended bloody and painfully as mobs repeatedly tore her apart and filled her full of arrows. Blood stained the area around where she spawned in each time and the stains spread farther and farther out. _

_ Dragging her withering carcass across the field, she was attempting to escape, over and over again. Never able to reach cover before respawning, never able to remove the sword, nothing in her inventory to help save her. No sword. No pick. No tools. No armor. An endless cycle of death and respawn. _

_ She’d dug down to try to hide from the mobs, but she’d respawn before any others would despawn so her chances to escape, to hide, were nonexistent. Constant agonizing pain, constant attacks, constant blood.* _

~~~

She awoke in a haze. The pain was there but not burning and searing, rather dull and... She suddenly sensed the presence of someone and pulled back gasping as shooting pain filled her chest.

“Not again. No, not again.” The flooding memories and pain made her groan as her mind screamed.

~~~

_ _

_ Four Players came around the edge of the lake. They saw her in agony and rushed to her aid. Unable to remove the sword, they watched in horror as she respawned yet again. As soon as she spawned back in they used their potions of regeneration and healing to try to help. For almost two days they gave her hope as they kept her alive while they tried to free her. They couldn’t move her without causing unbearable pain, so they fixed a makeshift shelter of dirt and cobble. They used their last potion the morning of the second day, and they watched helplessly as she held onto her sliver of hope through repeated fights for life before she respawned. There was nothing they could do. _

_ Two of the Players couldn’t handle her repeated, painful respawns anymore and moved on while the other two stayed with her. The remaining two would have stayed with her longer had three griefer Players not come upon them. The five Players fought it out and all three griefers were respawned. One of the two Players that remained with the damaged Player perished, while the other came out triumphant, only to be respawned by a skeleton’s stray arrow at the worst possible moment. _

_ ~~~ _

She had found herself alone, again. Dying over and over again. Sometimes by the accursed sword... Sometimes by the mobs. She couldn’t have hope again. She couldn’t. She had held on for all those days. Wishing, hoping, fighting for life again. But even the four Player’s help proved fruitless. She couldn’t have hope. No, she wouldn’t.

Her cry of alarm resulted in someone’s attempts to restrain her, which wasn’t hard as loss of blood made her so weak. Sobs racked her body as she lay and wished for death. Wished her life and the pain would end. She tried to turn her head away as someone placed a potion to her lips, convinced someone was trying to heal her with intent to lengthen her torment between debilitating respawns.

A firm hand held her head as the potion poured down her throat. Pain raced through her body as the healing potion worked and she felt the world slip away into swirling darkness.

~~~

As her body ceased the convulsions, Herobrine released her and Merida slumped back into a chair with a shaky sigh.

Craig stood in the doorway and said in a quiet, uneasy voice. “She’s a Player. Why does she feel...pain? Why didn’t she just quit?”

Merida’s eyes met Herobrine’s, and neither spoke for a moment. Heather stood behind Craig in shock. “She can’t, can she?”

Herobrine said nothing. His face an unreadable expression as he stared at the unconscious Player. Merida drew a shaky breath. “No, she can’t. I don’t know why or how, but she’s not just the avatar for a Player. She’s really here.”

Herobrine silently turned and walked past Craig out the door.

Heather sighed. “Now what?”

Craig shook his head. This had never happened. Was unheard of. Here lay a Player who sacrificed herself for the Native army. It had trapped her in an endless cycle of death and respawns with a cursed enchanted sword embedded in her chest through her heart. She had been through so many horrors between deaths... evident from the craters and mob drops and blood all over the field. When not being torn apart or blown apart by mobs, other Players took their turns torturing her. She repeatedly tried to free herself. She failed. He shuddered. He turned and followed Herobrine outside.

Herobrine stood by the lake, troubled. He watched the fish swim so carefree, unaware of the awful situation. The sky dimmed and stars peeked through the cloudy sky.

Craig glanced up. “It’s going to rain.”

Herobrine nodded.. “She has to remain here until she is more stable.”

Craig understood. Anyone with a wound that bad... should have respawned again, now that the sword was removed. Yet having respawned so many times, it was uncertain what another respawn would do now that the sword was removed. He left Herobrine alone and returned inside.

~~~

As she stood by the glass walls and watched the rain clouds move in, Merida struggled with emotions. As a Healer of her position, it was in her nature to remain focused and composed when she had to deal with severe wounds. This though... Merida stifled the intense desire to force those who performed such evil upon another to experience… she shouldn't wish that and shook her head as she turned to check on the feverish Player.

This wound in her chest left by the sword ran clean through her and oozed a black tar-like substance. Each time she had respawned the sword wound expanded slightly and now what had been a clean cut through her chest and out her back was now a gaping wound from her entire chest down to her belly. The wound was greatest on her chest, her back having only a wound the size of a beetroot. Merida had stopped the bleeding and oozing from the back wound but her chest... Merida had to apply new ointments and bandages frequently. She had to request assistance to force the Player to drink the potion. She had never seen one so ready and wishing to die.

It concerned Merida. The potions did little for the large wound. Because of the great loss of blood and the infections the smaller wounds were not healing as fast as they should. Only the wound on her shoulder had nearly healed.

She stopped.

The wound on the Player’s shoulder had nearly healed. Merida didn’t understand and immediately set to work to determine the cause.

~~~

_ The sun had nearly set when she heard new voices. It had been so long. She had given up. She’d respawn, sink to her knees and await her demise. She quit fighting, quit hoping. Not even the new voices sparked her hope. _

_ Suddenly swirling blackness overcame her, and she began falling into the Void, powerless to do anything. Bright red eyes appeared in the darkness above her and words filled her head. “Sunsets, darkness rises, eyes watching.” _

She awoke screaming.

~~~

All the members of the group startled at the screams. Herobrine teleported to the room and grabbed the Player’s thrashing body. Craig ran in to assist the adrenalin-charged Merida who had been thrown back at the awakening. Heather and Celest had taken up defensive positions outside in case others had heard the screams.

“We must keep her contained,” Craig growled. “Her screams could attract other Players.”

Herobrine nodded as he turned to find a way to quiet the dying Player, only to freeze as Merida exclaimed, “Craig, out, now! I need to speak to my Lord alone!”

Craig startled at Merida’s outburst. He immediately left the room knowing it was unwise to be on the blunt end of her anger.

Herobrine frowned as Merida shut the door and turned to him. “There is a way to save her. Though you might not like it.”

~~~

_ The Players who the voices belonged to, came around the bend and startled when they saw her. They approached with confusion and concern. Then recognition…. _

_ One sneered. “It’s that traitor Player. The one who respawned us.” _

_ Others voiced acknowledgment. _

_ “Let’s make her pay.” A redhead said grinning evilly. _

_ Fear flooded her as she respawned before them and the horror began. _

She awoke to horrible burning pain filling her again, and she screamed into a gag shoved into her mouth. Fear, terror, horror, and she tried to escape the hands that held her down.

‘No, no, no.’

She cried tears running down her face, mixed with the blood and ooze, poured onto her pillow. She couldn’t escape, her eyes filled with blinding light, she couldn’t see. She only heard voices she couldn’t make out. Shouts, exclamations. Searing pain that filled her as she felt a boiling liquid that sizzled as it poured on her chest.

The screaming stopped as her body slumped in defeat, her sobs racking her body.

Merida wasted no time as she pulled the gag out and poured a vial of blood red liquid down the Player’s throat followed quickly by potions of healing and regeneration.

The Player’s body suddenly went rigid and her eyes widened as her vision cleared. She clearly saw the glowing eyes of the one who held her down before her body collapsed unconscious. 

~~~

_ She lay upon her bed looking up at the stars. Anger and sorrow filled her. She turned to look at a librarian standing beside her. She found herself floating above the charred village holding a book. She glanced at the cover. “Darkness History”. She frowned. She remembered this. _

_ Suddenly she heard the laugh, the evil laugh of the Players who tortured her. She looked up in horror into blackness and red eyes that grinned evilly at her. A wide gaping mouth appeared below the eyes. A mouth filled with darkness deeper and darker than even the black that filled her vision. It devoured her, and she fell helpless into the redness. _

She awoke with a start. There was a moment before she realized… the pain, it had diminished? The room… she was in “her” room. At her home. She frowned and pushed herself up, wondering if it was another dream. A sudden wave of pain hit her chest, and she fell back with a gasp. Nope, definitely awake. But, why? A thousand thoughts and questions filled her head.

Then her eyes went wide as she saw her chest. The sword…was gone.

~~~

Merida entered the room, and the Player lept from the bed and fled to the corner of the glass wall before she collapsed in pain and fear.

“My Lord!” Merida yelled.

Craig and Herobrine entered. At the sight of them, the Player dissolved into sobs. The two gently pulled her up and carried her back to the bed.

“Please, please just let me die.” She sobbed.

Merida took her hands and spoke slowly and calmly. “It is all right. You are safe now. You are going to be alright. It’s okay. You are safe. I won’t let anyone harm you. It’s okay. Look at me. You are safe.”

She slowly turned her tear-streaked face to look at Merida, who held out some water to the Player to drink. “It’s okay, it’s only water. You must be thirsty.”

Merida smiled softly as the Player relaxed slightly between the tender words and the caring gesture of a Healer, still guarded but less likely to flee. Herobrine and Craig remained out of the fearful Player’s sight off to the far side of the room by the door, silent and unmoving to avoid startling the Player again.

Merida gently rubbed her hand and asked the questions so many had wondered. “Can you tell me your name?”

The female Player stared at Merida in distrust and pain. She swallowed, and a tear fell from her eye as she croaked out, “Vahlure.”   



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vah must come to terms with her survival

**The Tales of Vahlure**

_ Chapter 5 _

_ “Being alone with fear can rapidly turn into panic. Being alone with frustration can rapidly turn into anger. Being alone with disappointment can rapid turn into discouragement and, even worse, despair.” _

_ ― Mark Goulston _

  
  
  


Merida sat to the right of the bed watching Vahlure sleep. She frowned. The Players eyes darted to and fro under her eyelids and she twitched and shuddered as the nightmares tormented her. Merida touched her hand and said softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m right here. You’re not alone. You’re safe.” Vahlure’s breathing slowed and her body relaxed slightly.

Merida glanced at the clock. She hoped Vahlure would sleep for a while before she needed another treatment. Ten days of fever, potions, fear, nightmares... It exhausted everyone. Thankfully the treatments worked wonders on the wounds on the rest of her body. Merida removed the bandage from Vahlure’s head that morning and besides the cut above her left eyebrow, the wounds had completely healed. She feared a small scar would remain from the head wound.

Turning, her eyes searched the slowly lightening sky as the bright pink and orange colors sunrise appeared. She knew outside Craig spoke with Heather about troop movement and her Lord was preparing for the future.

A shuddered sigh turned her attention back to Vahlure, who stared at the ceiling as a single tear slid down her cheek.

“Hey,” Merida said softly, as she took Vahlure’s hand in hers. She inwardly winced as she felt the fearful jerk that came from Vahlure. “It’s alright. You’re safe.” She smiled. “Your fever finally broke.”

Vahlure turned her dull eyes to study Merida. Merida was slightly taken back, as dull as Vahlure’s eyes were, there was something... She didn’t know what. It was as if something dark lay underneath that despondency.

Vahlure swallowed hard and Merida held a cup of water to her lips. When Vahlure had taken a couple sips Merida sat back and asked softly, “Is that better?”

The Player nodded and Merida gently smiled as she placed the cup on the table beside the bed.

“You’re... you’re Bobby’s mom.” Vahlure’s voice croaked slightly.

Merida froze for a brief at the mention of her only child’s name then nodded, “Yes, I am.”

Vahlure swallowed hard again. “Is... is he...”

Merida then understood. “He’s safe, thanks to you. Thank you for protecting my son.” She took Vahlure’s hand again between her own who did not flinch this time but audibly sighed and relaxed.

“You are safe now. You are in your home recovering. No one is going to hurt you again. Craig? My husband. Is outside. You are safe.”

The slight frown on Vahlure’s forehead gave away her confusion.

Vahlure whispered. “Is he... here?”

Merida knew she didn’t speak of Craig. “You’re safe, I promise you. Rest, you need to rest...”

“No. Is  _ he _ here?” Vahlure’s voice rose slightly.

Merida sighed. She had hoped this conversation wouldn’t come until much later. But she could not lie not when Vahlure was in such a state of distrust.

“Yes. He is here. But you are safe. You don’t need to fear him. It’s alright.”

She was a little surprised at Vahlure’s quietness and sat in silence as she watched Vahlure attempt to process.

Vahlure whispered a hint of fear in her voice. “I don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Merida wished she could take this fear, this inner torment, from the player that had begun to slightly tremble.

“He was there...”

Merida nodded. “He is commander of the army and yes he was there in the battle.”

A slight shake of the head. “No. On the mountain. The village...” another small tear slid down her face.

Merida was confused now. “What mountain?”

Vahlure was silent as she lay with her eyes closed.

“You need to rest. Sleep. I’ll be close by. I won’t leave you.” Merida’s chest was tight.

Vahlure’s eyes opened to study Merida. “He... saved me.” It was half statement, half question.

Merida nodded. “Yes, he did. You are safe. Rest now.”

There was an audible sigh as Vahlure’s eyes slowly slid shut. Merida believed her to fall asleep and removed her hand.

Merida frowned. She didn’t understand what mountain Vahlure spoke of. She’d have to ask Lord Herobrine.

She startled slightly when she realized that he stood just outside the doorway. He stepped in with a curt nod and apologized, “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you. How does she fare?”

She sighed and studied the Players facial features. The drawn lines across her forehead and under her eyes. She wasn’t young but neither was she old. Her face was pale and had Merida not known she was alive, Vahlure could have looked quite dead. She turned to him.

“She is stable. Fever broke, finally. The treatment is working. Though to keep her stable and healing toward recovery will require at least one of these potions a day.”

He frowned and she struggled to find the courage to say what needed to be said. “She can never go back. Even now her... coding...” She drew a ragged breath, “She is no longer Player... not Native...”

He looked confused and frowned. “What are you saying?”

She sighed. “The only word I have is... glitch. But yet... she’s not. There’s no word for it. Maybe...hybrid.”

He stood, arms crossed, glowing eyes focused unseeing at the ground. “What must be done then?”

Merida thought and prioritized the healing Vahlure required to return her to full health then spoke. ”First I will attempt to make a small change in her coding, remove the Player tag so she will not be seen as such to the others. She can heal, both physically and mentally, without fear of our people attacking or hurting her. We would be able to keep her safe somewhat then until you can ask your questions of her and use her for information."

He nodded, then looked up and his eyebrows shot up. She turned to follow his gaze.

Vahlure’s eyes were opened and she stared at Herobrine. For a moment no one moved or even breathed.

Merida’s heart raced and she wondered how Vahlure would respond.

Vahlure opened and closed her mouth and her fear filled eyes suddenly cleared and flashed. “You.” She said quietly yet pointedly.

Merida took Vahlure’s hand again and hoping to calm her as she said softly, “It’s okay. He saved you. You’re safe here...” She was cut off by Vahlure pulling her hand away as she stared at Herobrine.

“You were there. On the mountain.”

Herobrine nodded, silent.

Vahlure swallowed hard. “Why?”

He looked confused.

“Why didn’t you save them?”

Merida still was confused but remained silent sitting next to Vahlure.

He dropped his arms and sighed. “The village was destroyed when I arrived and you had already avenged the villagers. There was nothing I could do besides return to the army in preparation for battles.”

Vahlure seemed to accept that and lay silently.

“All the villagers, all those natives...they are all... gone,” Vahlure whispered. She grew silent again as she stared up at the ceiling in despair.

Merida was about to break the silence when she saw a tear slide down Vahlure cheek.

Herobrine saw it as well and spoke softly. “You saved a lot of Natives that day. We... I... thank you.”

Vahlure turned her tearful fear filled eyes to look at him. “You should have let me die. I won’t be your glitch to use as you please. Doesn’t matter what torture you use, I won’t let you use me.”

Merida recognized her poor word choice from before and inwardly winced. “We don’t want to  _ use _ you. I swear to you, you are safe. You are in no danger from us. We...”

Vahlure’s eyes flashed with both fear and anger as she spat, “Natives...  _ your _ people... attack me... Players ... “She shuddered and an angry tear slid down her now whitened face. “I am not _ safe _ . You... you saved me... for your own purpose.”

Herobrine remained silent and Merida struggled with words to say. To a degree, Vahlure was right. They searched for this Player to question her about the Player army. However, they hadn’t expected being required to save her. Merida sighed. She knew lying would only increase Vahlure’s distrust. It was better to be open now.

“Yes, we searched for you to question about the army. We did not know you were ... in a bad situation. I am a Healer, I will save any who require my touch. Enemy or ally. It is my code.” She frowned. “You need to rest.” And glanced at the clock with a somewhat frustrated sigh. “I will need to treat your wounds again.”

Vahlure stared unseeing at the ceiling. “No” she whispered, “please let me die.”

Merida felt a mixture of emotions rise within her. Sorrow, anger, fear. “I can’t let you die again.”

“Why? I’d at least heal then you’d not have to waste your precious time tormenting me.” Another tear slid down her face.

Merida felt immense sorrow. “I can’t allow that. You won’t heal. Your code degrades with each respawn. Each time it will get harder and harder to heal you. Each time a more painful respawn. Until its endless pain and death and no chance to save you.”

There was a dark silence that filled the room for many minutes.

Vahlure swallowed hard. “I... I have no choice... do I?”

Merida sighed in deep sorrow. “I must... I will... save you. I cannot, nor would I, go against my coding’s demands to heal you.”

Watching Vahlure try to process the data, she knew she’d have to break this painful news. “I need to treat you now.”

Vahlure did not respond, just stared at the ceiling expressionless.

Merida rose and explained what she was doing as Vahlure lay silent. She recognized the defeat and apathy in Vahlure’s eyes.

“I will need to apply this potion to your chest.” She held the vial of crimson liquid. “Then I will apply potions of healing and regeneration okay?”

Vah shook her head. “No. No. You won’t force me. No.” She began to draw back against the bed in fear of the pain she knew would accompany the treatment.

Merida sigh, exhausted. Herobrine finally moved and spoke up. “Whether you retain information about the enemy army is no matter. You need to recover. You cannot allow yourself to fall into a state of despair and respawning. You will lose yourself and I will not allow it. Take the potions and listen to Merida. Were you not a warrior? You had a code, did you not? Follow the orders given you.” His voice was firm, commanding, yet not unkind. “You will be safe here with the Healer. I will leave you to your treatment to meet with my Lieutenant. Rest. Recover.” He turned and walked out of the room.

Merida watched him leave and waited in silence.

Vahlure lay frozen, eyes unblinking, staring at the doorway he had departed through.

Merida slowly turned and began straightening the bandages she would use.

“He ... he is a commander...” Vah voice barely a whisper.

Merida nodded. “Yes, and a good one.”

“I had a commander once...” a confused look crossed Vah’s face. “Was it him?”

Now Merida felt confused. “No, I don’t believe so.” She sat down and touched Vah’s hand. “Tell me about your commander.”

Vah stared at Merida. “I... I don’t remember... I don’t remember.” She started to shake. “Why don’t I remember?”

Merida grasped her hand tighter and said firmly, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m here and I will help you. You were hurt bad, very bad, and it will take time to heal. As you heal you may remember, okay? Let me help you, please, let me help.”

Vah was still shaking but she nodded slightly.

Merida nodded and said gently, “Okay, I’m sorry but I have to do the treatment now.”

Vah stared at Merida in confused fear. “The...treatment… “ It dawned on her and she drew back in terror. “No. No. Not again.”

Merida regretted what she had to do. “Assist me please.” She called flatly.

Herobrine’s expressionless face reappeared at the door as he was closest to respond to Merida’s request for assistance.

Vah’s tumbled off the other side of the bed as she attempted to flee. She lay in a ball sobbing in pain and despair. Herobrine picked her up gently and laid her upon the bed. A pained expression crossed his face briefly as she feebly attempted to fight against his hold. He held her arms to her sides as Merida removed the blackened bandages from Vah’s chest.

Choking sobs came from the struggling Player as Merida quickly poured the potion onto the gaping wound. The oozing and pus subsided but the wound still gaped open like a black pit. The potion sizzled as it poured into the hole and Vahlure arched up with a piercing scream. Merida stuffed a strip of leather in Vah’s mouth and tried not to focus on Vah’s wild panicked eyes. Two splash potions of healing and regeneration followed which alleviated a little of the pain.

Vah’s scream was short and as soon as it died, Merida immediately removed the leather and spoke quietly to her. “It’s okay. It’s done. Breathe. Deep breaths.” She breathed deep to show as she said “In. Out. In. Out.” until Vah’s frantic breathing slowed and she relaxed slightly. Merida glanced at the wound and watched as the bottom of the wound healed ever so slightly from the potions. Barely noticeable to anyone else’s eye but as a Healer, she saw the change.

When Vahlure slumped into the bed, only then did Herobrine released Vahlure’s sweat-covered arms as her body shook from the pain and anguish from being forced to a treatment. Tears flowed from her barren eyes as she stared unseeing at the ceiling.

Merida held Vah’s hand and spoke softly to her as Herobrine stepped away from the bed and turned to leave the room.

He stopped in the doorway and sighed. “Heal.” Then turned to stare hard at her. “I’ll make it an order if it makes you feel better.”

Vahlure turned her head to stare at him in mixed confusion and fear. “Order?” She whispered.

He nodded once, firmly. “That is your code, is it not? A warrior? Focus, Pla... Warrior,” he paused. “Heal. Rest. Obey the Healer. I will leave a warrior skilled in matters who will assist you in your recovery.” He turned his attention to Merida. “Tell me how much you need and I will prepare.” He walked out.

Vahlure lay frozen and stared at where he had stood in the doorway. She said nothing as Merida quietly bandaged up the chest wound. She swallowed hard and finally tore her eyes from the doorway to study Merida.

Merida inwardly sighed in exhaustion and sadness. The pain Vah endured with each treatment was excruciating. Though it had lessened a little since the first time. With the fever now broke, Merida hoped to start getting more nutrients into the struggling woman so she would recover more quickly. With the rate of the current healings with each potion, she roughly estimated it would take at least eight months of daily potions. She’d have to tell her Lord that she’d need at least thirty-two vials from him. She shuddered thinking about how taxing it would be on him since it was…

Vahlure interrupted her thoughts. “He is my commander isn’t he?” She looked so confused and flustered.

Merida thought for a brief moment as she saw a way to encourage Vahlure not only to live but to submit to her Lord’s questions before answering honestly. “Yes... he is now.”

Vahlure frowned as her eyelids drooped.”I don’t understand…”

Merida smiled softly and touched Vahlure’s hand, “It’s okay, you will. Rest now.”

As Vahlure’s eyes slid closed, Merida reached into the warrior’s coding and began to make adjustments. The first change was the disappearance of the Player nametag. Merida glanced to make sure Vahlure still slumbered, then paused considering if she should make the next change or if she should consult with Lord Herobrine first. Shaking her head she decided against it and made the small adjustment.

Vahlure gasped and eyes flew open at the sudden change. The black of Void filled Vahlure’s eyes before it cleared; she collapsed back into unconsciousness.

Merida frowned. The nametag’s removal could only benefit the hybrid woman, but the unexpected yet brief shift of eye color filled Merida with unease. She sat down in the chair beside the sleeping warrior and felt sleep come quickly.

~~~

As Merida rested deep in sleep, Vahlure’s eyes flew open, pitch black and unseeing. Her mouth opened and closed as a hoarse whisper escaped her lips. “‘Sun sets, darkness rises, eyes watching.” Then her eyes cleared and she slumped back into unconsciousness.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How does everyone respond to these changes? What will happen to Vah now?

**The Tales of Vahlure**

_ Chapter 6 _

_ “Only courageous hearts can endure the bitterness of truth.” _

_ ― Michael Bassey Johnson _

  
  


Celest swung her sword in fast rhythmic motions, going through a series of deliberate and focused routines, each swing bringing her blade to a focused stop but a hair from the bark. 2Her attention was focused and eyes did not stray from the birch before her. A tiny glint in her brown eyes as she suddenly switch formation, flipped around and swept her leg toward the one who approached behind. He jumped back avoiding the leg sweep. The tip of her sword was inches away from his throat. Her serious expression did not change and she pulled back and sheathed her sword with a curt nod of respect. "My Lord." 

He nodded. "You are improving, well done." 

She turned, pulled out her bow, and began a series of shots in deliberate formations at the birch tree. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him throw an apple high into the air. She swung with no hesitation and smoothly shot the apple with an arch that brought the apple down cleanly sliced in two squarely in front of him. She put away her bow and studied the apple without really seeing it. 

Herobrine knew she waited his instruction and sighed, "I am charging you with the Player’s protection."

Shock and disbelief, "My Lord!"

He held up his hand and she went silent. "She could have intel regarding the enemy leadership but is in no condition to share that information." He paused remembering Vahlure’s pale face. "I want you to assist the Healer Merida in the Player's recovery and question her at first opportunity." He stopped, this time remembering the Players terror filled eyes. "Only question her when the Healer deems it sensible. Not before." 

She nodded in acknowledgement though her face betrayed her disapproval. 

Herobrine took a deep breath. “I must travel again and meet up with the army. There are… details about this Player's recovery that are… complex.”

Her right eyebrow shot up. “Complex?”

He sighed and frowned wondering at the weight of his words and how to share them properly. “This information…you will look at these instructions and information as if it were top secret information that you may never share or give even in face of respawning torture.”

Celest nodded. She was used to such orders and information.   
  


“You know Native movement and Player movements well, have trained in every art and fighting style. While no master of them, you understand them as a whole better than many in all the armies of this Realm” He paused. “You know how Player’s think, plan and fight. You know how our people think, plan, fight, survive….”

Celest frowned.

”This … Player… her coding is damaged. She can no longer be a Player. She isn’t a Native either nor will she ever be one. If left to respawn with no care or treatment then she would be in a cycle of death and respawn until nothing could be done but allow an unending agony. In truth, no one could allow that. Not in good conscience. The Healer has discovered a … treatment. To allow her to live. This treatment could cause…. changes we are unaware of at this time. But it is the only way currently and so we will proceed.”

“Which is?” Celest asked when he paused for a moment.

He studied her thinking. “A … potion…. made…. “ He sighed deeply disturbed. “The potion is made using a portion of my …. blood.”

~~~   
  
Celeste stared at him in shock. He couldn't be serious. There was no way! She tried to regain control of the emotions that rose up inside. "You're... the potions... they are... your..." Her eyes were wide in disbelief as she shook her head. "My Lord, surely you jest! This... is unheard of..." Her chest was as tight as if the air had been knocked out of her. She swallowed hard, "Forgive me, I spoke out of turn."   
  
"No, speak freely." He said quietly.   
  
"If she was a Player but can't be anymore and isn't a Native... if it's your blood... and you are not Native or Player but a demi-god...then..." She paused and her breath caught... "what is she?" She felt afraid... a feeling she rarely experienced.

~~~~~

Merida sighed. Sharing this confidential information would be difficult and needed be delicately handled with tact. Heather stood there frowning as Merida explained.   
  
When they had first encountered the Player and Herobrine had removed the sword, a drop of his blood had fallen on Vahlure’s shoulder wound and it had healed rapidly. Merida still didn’t know why, but once she made a potion with a portion of his blood, Vah began to heal. 

Heather received the information quietly. Then responded. She had come to the conclusion that the demigod’s blood could quite possibly save Vahlure but felt that it was not her place to come to conclusion or to even suggest such a thing. She explained she understood was a delicate situation and a definite hard thing to suggest. She expressed that she felt that if she were to suggest it, it would be an abomination. She didn't even know for sure if the player would survive and consider the player to possibly already be an abomination. She was willing to consider whatever would happen. Heather told Merida that whatever was decided by the demigod, her Lord, she would follow the orders. She did not like the way that things had gone. She has wished to remain quiet about her disapproval but now expressed openly at Merida’s request.

Merida was and yet wasn’t surprised at Heather's conclusion, given that Heather was a master at gaining intel. Now Merida was concerned at to how Celest was taking the information and knew that she now had to speak to Craig. She dismissed Heather and called Craig into the room.

~~~

Craig gathered the sand needed for making the glass bottles Merida required. He couldn't believe what she had told him. It wasn't possible.    
  
The potions secret had been revealed. Merida had taken a portion of their Lord's blood and made this …. Potion. “His” blood. It was… wrong. Craig shook his head and didn’t know why, but it felt so wrong. And the fact that the power in the undead demi-god’s blood hadn’t… destroyed Vahlure… Craig’s skin felt clammy and cold with fear.   
  
What kind of Player was this?

~~~

He stood there looking over the hill. He didn't know what else to say to them besides the facts that he'd already given them. There was an unnerving silence, that had spread over the area once the news had been broken to the team.

Craig was appalled and had taken off into the woods to breathe and collect sand for glass.

Heather was smouldering anger but remained calm. He knew he had to move her to a different location before her anger came out and distressed Healer. He knew Merida was already… struggling with the stress.

Celeste was shaken and had agreed that it was proper for her to take on the training and healing process of Vah. She knew that the player was no longer a player as well as couldn't be a native. She knew that what she had to do would require a great deal of patience and practice and utilizing all information that she had in relation to players movements and actions as well as the way natives are. She also had to take an account that they did not know what the side effects of using the demigods blood would do upon this player. There was a good chance that her code could quite possibly glitch out or even break down completely. They were prepared that if her coding would break down completely then she could respawn out of the Realms or even despawn completely. This sounded better than the chances of her respawning over and over again and slowly losing her coding until it was a continual cycle of death and pain with no chance of saving her.

~~~

The time had come. The knowledge was out for those in the party to know and understand. But Vahlure still did not know and it was a concern on how she would respond at the information and even more concern if they kept the details hidden, how she would respond knowing they had deceived her slightly by withholding the information. 

Once it was discussed between them all, they felt it was in Vahlure’s best interest to share the delicate information before Herobrine, Heather, and Craig’s departure for the army.

~~~

Merida sighed as she sat beside Vahlure. Nearly four weeks had passed since finding her. Lord Herobrine had contributed the blood required for making the potions. Heather and Craig had made the preparations for departure and Celest had set up a secure perimeter around Vahlure’s home. Celest and Merida would remain and care for Vahlure. There was a concern that she might react badly to the treatments and respond with aggression so they were well prepared. Celest had been trained by her Lord himself, so he had complete confidence that she would be able to handle the healing and future training of Vahlure. 

Vahlure sighed and Merida turned her attention to the recovering woman. “How are you feeling?”

Vahlure frowned thinking. “I don’t know.” She pulled herself into a sitting position, wincing at the pain in her chest. Leaning back against the pillows against the wall she turned her dull hazel eyes to study Merida’s concerned and drawn face. “What’s wrong?” There was a flicker of fear.

Merida took Vahlure’s hand and said softly. “There is something we need to tell you.”

Herobrine stepped inside the doorway. 

Vahlure twitched in fear but kept her eyes fixed firmly on Merida. 

“The potions we have been using for your healing.... you have noticed they are different.”

Vahlure nodded, a small frown appearing on her forehead.

“Your coding was damaged and the ability to save and treat you by ordinary methods were ineffective. There was only one way we determined, to save you and bring about healing.” Merida paused and looked at Herobrine.

Vahlure now turned her gaze to focus on him. Her eyes searched his face. She frowned and eyes narrowed. “What is it…”

Merida searched for words. 

Herobrine spoke up. “The potions were made of a different substance never used before in the Realm. It is a sensitive matter that is of utmost secrecy. As it is your body that requires this, then it is only fitting for you to know. However, this … knowledge… must never be shared with anyone outside the five in the present company.” He turned his head to focus intently on her and she shivered. “You understand this order?”

She nodded slightly.

“Good,” He turned to Merida, “Explain.”

Merida exhaled and said quietly. “The potions are made with our Lord Herobrine’s blood.”

Vahlure’s frowning expression didnt change but she turned her head to look out the windows. There was a long silence.

The silence was broken by Vahlure’s voice asking firmly but quietly. “What does this mean?”

“You are no longer a Player and cannot return. You are not a Native to this Realm…”

Vahlure finished the sentence, “... and Lord Herobrine is an undead demi-god.”

Merida nodeed. 

Vahlure pulled her hand free from Merida’s and her eyes flashed with emotions neither Herobrine nor Merida could read. “Then what am I?” 

Merida shook her head. “There isn’t a word for what kind of being you are now. But you must be kept safe from the Players who would try to harm you and from any Native who would see you as a threat.”

“That’s why you removed my name tag.” It was more statement than question.

Merida nodded. 

Herobrine turned and walked to the glass wall and looked out over the lake.

Merida began to explain the complexities. How Vahlure would have remained in an endless cycle of death and pain and how they hadn’t found any other way to assist her healing. Herobrine’s blood had healed the wound on her shoulder in sizzling heat. The healing was fast and extreme. When applying his blood to another small wound it had proven to cause extreme agony in a pure form. So Merida had devised a potion that diluted the potency of the blood and made it less… intense… in its healing. It would take a great deal of time to fully heal Vahlure’s chest wound but Merida was going to continue treatment until either Vahlure was fully healed or until another treatment could be discovered.

As well as healing, there had been two other small changes noticed. Vahlure’s eyes and hair were darkening.

Merida also explained that Lord Herobrine wished for her to begin to train under Celest to regain her strength and warrior skills. 

Vahlure listened with unchanging expression as she stared unseeing out the window. “But…” She said quietly. “What am I then? I am not Player, Native, or... “ She glanced at him with flashing eyes, “or you… so what am I?”

“You are a hybrid. Part player, part Native, part…” He paused. “There is no word for what you are.But you will be treated as if you were a member of the Native armies under my order. Do you understand?” His voice was firm and commanding.

Vahlure stared back at him, processing. She nodded slowly, her hazel eyes dark and unnerving. “Whatever I am now, whatever may be. I am yours to command… my Lord.” Her voice sounded hollow. 

Merida was slightly taken aback. She hadn’t expected this response. Yet, she feared what might lay underneath the surface of Vahlure’s submission. There was something,deeper, that lay dormant inside of Vahlure. Merida was sure of it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vah begins her training with Celest but....

**The Tales of Vahlure**

_ Chapter 7 _

_ “The scariest monsters are human beings and what we will do to each other.” _

_ ― Jared Harris _

  
  


Merida watched the two sparring... well it was more like Celest kicking the crap out of Vahlure. She sighed, glanced up at the sun, then frowned. Eight months. He should return any day. She had enough potions left for another week and then they would be exhausted.

The large gaping hole in Vahlure’s chest had diminished to the size of a potato in the center of her chest. Every treatment would assist in the healing by a minute portion of a pixel. Tiny amount.

Vahlure’s strength had returned as well as her speed. In strength, she nearly matched Celest and could easily outrun her. Merida had watched as Vah had rediscovered her sneak abilities, her flexibility and agility, and her skill with the sword. She was spry and quick yet fearfully hesitant.

A dark fear was always underneath the surface when Vah trained and it concerned Merida. Fear and anger. Anger drove her to try again and again, yet the fear held her back from drawing into and remembering her true inner strength and potential.

Merida startled slightly as Celest flipped Vah over her shoulder and tossed her across the field. The sickening thud of body hitting stone made Merida wince and rise from her seated position. She could hear jagged breathing. She sighed as she watched Vahlure struggle to her feet. Startled, she realized someone stood behind her.

“Ah, Lord Herobrine.” She smiled, nodded. “It’s good to see you.”

~~~

Vahlure hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of her. Black specks filled her vision as she tried to regain her breath, spitting blood.

“Muscle memory!” She heard the angry shout from Celest who stood across the field, arms crossed. “Get up!”

Vahlure pulled herself to her feet grumbling. Taking a deep breath and glancing over at Merida saw she stood at the edge of the field watching solemnly. Vahlure grabbed the sword at her feet, faced Celest.

She gritted her teeth as she listened to the angry taunts from Celest. She knew Celest taunted her because it made her angry. When she got angry, she responded with sudden remembrance of techniques. These memories of both mind and muscle were bringing her back into the warrior she had once been.

‘Focus Vah,’ She faced Celest who still stood to study her. The wind blew dust across the field while the sun beat down. A tickle of sweat and blood slid down her forehead. ‘Why isn’t she making her move?’ Vah thought angrily. She shifted her weight slightly, her right foot slid back a couple inches.

Celest still didn’t move.

Her rage grew, dark red rimmed her vision, she sprang forward to attack towards Celest.

Celest didn’t move until Vah was nearly on top of her. ‘Got her.’ Vah thought as she brought down her sword.

All air was knocked out of her as the hilt of Celest’s sword struck her in the chest. She collapsed on the ground unable to breathe or move. A terror filled her as she recalled the taunt of those who tormented her when she, unable to function, perished at both their hand and from the cursed blade.

Celest’s voice came through the terror. “... you’re weak.”

Pitch swirling black flood Vah’s vision.

~~~

Merida’s attention was suddenly drawn back to the field when a gust of pressured electrically charged wind struck her. She froze in horror.

Vah had attacked Celest, had her pinned down, Celest sword shattered on the ground beside them. Vah’s sword tip was pressed against Celest throat.

A flash of lightning and Vah was knocked across the field. Lord Herobrine had left Merida’s side and now stood next to Celest.

Celest, gasped, as she struggled to her feet. Blood was dripping from the wound on her neck where Vah’s sword had nearly taken her life. She looked shaken, angry, and turned to face Vah.

Vah’s eyes smoldered black swirling that blocked out the color. Her face was filled with pure rage and her hands sparked around the hilt of the sword she grasped tightly with both hands. She didn’t move but faced Lord Herobrine and Celest in fighting stance.

No one moved and Merida feared to even breathe. She had known the darkness was growing yet didn’t know what it was, where it came from, or how it could be dealt with.

Lord Herobrine moved first. Walking slowly, deliberately toward Vah. Her only movements were her heaving bloody chest, her sparking hands, and her eyes watching his every step. When he had nearly reached her, she lowered her head. He stepped up to the very tip of the sword, it pressed against his chest.

“Do it if you must.” His voice was quiet.

She lifted her head to stare at him. The rage had left her face though the darkness still filled her eyes. Her hands shook, the sparks ceased. She dropped her sword. She swayed wearily and he reached out to steady her.

Merida finally allowed herself to breathe. She hurried onto the field. She quickly ascertained that though Vah’s wounds would need tending soon, Celest’s throat wound was in dire need of treatment.

Celest staggered slowly over to where Vah leaned heavily against Lord Herobrine’s hold. Her right hand held her bleeding throat but her attention was not on the pain but rather on Vah.

Vah’s head hung low as Lord Herobrine gently turned her to support her by the shoulders to guide her towards Merida.

Celest reached them and gently touched Vah’s arm. Vah’s head came up slowly. Celest swallowed hard in slight fear at Vah’s darkness, flinched from the pain from her wound, and stepped back.

Merida reached Celest and immediately began to care for the wound. Her eyes met Lord Herobrine’s. She nodded once then turned to lead Celest back to the house.

Vah’s voice cracked, throat dry. “What… what’s wrong with me?”

Lord Herobrine glanced down at her. The swirling blackness in her eyes slowly cleared, the normal hazel now replaced with a darkened ombre red-brown. He frowned thoughtfully, sad.

“Your pain, injury… are deep. Required great care and change. You need to rest.”

She suddenly jerked away, stumbled back. Her hands grabbed at her head, a loud cry of alarm and pain, she collapsed to her knees.

Merida and Celest stopped to glance back at Vah. Merida gasped.

“Deep? Deep?” Vah’s voice was dark as if not her own. Head snapped up. Blackness returning to her eyes, brimming with tears.

Lord Herobrine sighed audibly. He stepped toward her then gasped in shocked pain.

A move none saw. She had been on her knees a few feet from him, now she was directly in front of him. Her sword, which had lay upon the ground behind her, was thrust deep into his right shoulder. Her face was filled with rage and pain.

“You… you did this… you made me into this… monster.” She spat in his face.

He gritted his teeth against the pain, but did not move.

Her eyes suddenly cleared and she stumbled back in horror. “No, no, no no no….” She gasped, looked around wildly in terror.

Calmly, removing the sword, dropping it to the ground, taking a step forward, “Calm yourself.” His voice was commanding yet soft. He reached her, gently grasped her by the arms. “You are safe. The monster within can be controlled.” He glanced up at Merida who sprinted toward them, her eyes wild with fearful fury. He looked at Vah, his brow furrowed. “I will teach you to control it.”

Vah fell to her knees against him and broke into sobs.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake has no idea who he is and what is happening. New Character Introduction

**The Tales of Vahlure**

_ Chapter 8 _

_ “The one permanent emotion of the inferior man is fear- fear of the unknown, the complex, the inexplicable. What he wants above everything else is safety..” _

_ ― H. L. Mencken _

  
  


Jake frowned as he stood there. Orange and brightly colored layers spread out before him. Blocky trees, at least he assumed they were trees, were around him with orangish tints. The sun… was a block? Shaking his head in confused disbelief he glancing down startled. His hands were… blocky? He couldn’t think of any other way to express how everything looked. So… block like. What kind of world was he in? What had happened?

He shook his head, attempting to remember. He knew his name was Jake and he was from Manhattan. But beyond that his memories blurred into unrecognizable fuzz. He started walking toward the edge of the … cliff, he assumed. Glancing down he saw a ton of spider webs.

“Whoa,” he whispered. He began to back away but the whisper had been enough. Massive spiders, half his size, twice as wide, like those from nightmares, came swarming out of the opening, scurrying up the side and towards him. A slight scream escaped him as he turned to run. They were upon him faster than he could escape. Biting and hissing. He screamed in agony and collapsed as they swarmed him. He noticed a rapidly dimming line of hearts. His screams died as he perished in poisonous fear.

A gentle thumping sound, he slowly peaked his eyes open. Exactly where he had been but moments before, staring at the colored layers before him.

“What the…” He exhaled. He was alive? He wasn’t going to question how or why. Turning he immediately headed a different direction. He wasn’t going back that way where the arachnids had been. Nope, not doing that again.

Walking quickly, every time he saw the webs he’d give that area a wide berth. Suddenly he slowed as he felt hungry. “What the…” A row of what looked like miniature chicken legs rapidly diminished. “What's this mean?” He mused.

Suddenly he stopped as a memory sharpened into focus.

_ “There’s this game you might enjoy.” The young lady grinned mischievously as she stood beside his desk. “It’s called …” _

“Minecraft.” He breathed heavily in shocked fear. “I’m in the flippin game.”

Terror overtook him. He shook as he tried to run, and felt himself unable. Trudging forward he began to feel sharp starvation. Exhaustion overtook as his hunger bars were down to nothing.

“Ouch,” he yelped. He was getting ... hurt? His hearts began to diminish. Why? He couldn’t figure it out.

His mind raced. Why hadn’t he taken her up on her offer to learn how to play? Who was she? Why couldn’t he remember?

His voice had carried and he heard the scurrying sound. ‘No, no, no… not again.”

The screams echoed across the canyon.

When he spawned in again, he just stood there breathing heavily. Angry, he spun and punched the nearest tree. The tree block wrinkled slightly in appearance and Jake’s eyes widened.

_ “It's easy, punch trees, craft, make a bed. It’s easy.” _

Darci, her name was Darci.

He punched the tree until the block fell and disappeared towards him. He jumped back with a start as a new window appeared before him. Inventory? He glanced and saw what he had. One block of wood. Oh! He could make that into planks!

He scratched his head. Then what? He held the four planks in his hand, studying them. ‘Craft’, she’d instructed. ‘Craft what?’

Jake fiddled with the planks in the four-block square that showed in his upper right vision. Two vertical planks revealed sticks. ‘Hmmm sticks. What on earth would I use a stick for? Poking the spiders eyes out?’ He shook his head. ‘Oh? What's this? A crafting table. Craft, she had said. Okay.’

He placed the newly crafted table down and grinned a little. ‘This is promising.’

Jake whipped back to the tree's wood remnants and punched those into his inventory as well.

A dry, rattling turned Jake from where the tree once stood as saplings, sticks, and an apple dropped from the disappearing leaves. ‘Now what?’ He peered into the dark. ‘When had it become night?’ An arrow struck him in the shoulder. “Youch!”

Moments later he spawned back in. “Seriously?” He snapped. “Is this the way it always goes? Die painfully then come back?!”

He stomped his foot. ‘I will get this.’ He thought bitterly. ‘No flippin game is going to out smart me. If I have to die a thousand times, this flippin game won’t beat me!’

~~~

Days passed, and so did many deaths. Three sheep later and Jake made a bed so he could sleep to avoid the night mobs. He figured out quickly the bed also reset his spawn point each time. Jake crafted a sword and axe, but found the axe more versatile - and less dangerous to himself. He’d admit this to no one though.

He wearied of this being his reality now and wished to find a way… out. He hadn’t regained any new memories besides little snippets Darci had told him.

“Watch out for mobs”, “Use armor”, “Eat a lot”....

He sighed exasperatedly as he reached yet another ocean. “Seriously?” He grumbled. Movement behind a tree caused his muscles to tense as his head jerked and he peered into the shadows of the tree.

He drew his axe. Probably a cow, he could use more food. He slowly approached the tree. 

Jake's feet barely kept him from falling as something thin and flat smacked his shoulders. ‘I can handle another cursed zombie with a stupid shovel.’ Jake spun around, readied for a brief skirmish. 

There were… people… blocky people… standing there, swords drawn. People! He hadn’t seen anyone since he had spawned in weeks before. He dropped his axe with an exclamation of joy.

“People!” He exclaimed loudly. “You are people!”

A sandy-haired, bearded man with stern eyes stepped forward and lowered his sword. “Yes, yes we are. And so are you.” He was bemused.

Jake swallowed, realized how foolish he had sounded. “I’m sorry. This has,” His voice shook with mixed emotions. “This has been just awful. How did we get here? Why? Why has this happened?” 

The man furrowed his brow and his eye twitched. “You don’t remember how you got here?”

Jake shook his head.

“Hmmm.” The man sheathed his sword and the others followed suit. “I’m Graves, this here is Cliff,” He gestured to a blonde, “Gray,” the older grizzled man, “Dean,” A nervous boy with reddish hair, “and Beeny” a narrowed dark eyed towhead who studied Jake with a dirty look. “We don’t have any memory either. Do you remember anything? Anything at all?”

Jake remembered Darci’s hints and felt uneasy. “No.” He said nervously. “Why? What is it we aren’t remembering?” He realized how foolish his question was.

Graves shrugged. “There’s only one who seems to have any idea what's going on. Come. We will take you to him. He is gathering all the players.” 

“There’s more?” eagerness shook Jake's words and raised his voice's pitch.

“Oh yes,” Graves smirked. “Enough for an army.”

Jake followed the small group through the trees to where beds were scattered across the ground and different work stations were set up. He startled. ‘So many players.’ All were clad in dinged iron armor and had plain iron swords. Jake felt slight fear but continued after the group to the only build in the center of the camp.

“Markus,” Graves said as he walked in the door, “We found another.”

“Good, good.” The sickly sweet voice caused the hair on Jake’s neck to stand on end. 

The dull eyed man glanced Jake up and down and his eyes narrowed. “Jake? Right?”

Confused, Jake nodded. 

“Hmm, where are you from?”

Jake shifted nervously. He felt he couldn’t trust them. “Acacia I think.”

Markus raised an eyebrow and chuckled. “Before you came into the game.”

“I think … Manhattan?” Jack stammered. 

Markus smiled slightly. “Do you know who I am?”

“Markus, right?”

Markus’ hard look softened. “Yes, welcome to the Player camp. We call ourselves the Resistance.”

“Resistance?” 

“Yes. There is a great evil in this world that threatens to destroy us once and for all. Making it impossible to leave the game.”

Jake gasped.

Markus nodded. “We intend to rid this world of said evil thus freeing ourselves from this wretched realm.”

Jake stood quietly thinking. “What evil?”

“You’ll see. Welcome to the Resistance.” Markus wrapped his arm around Jake’s shoulder. “There is much to discuss.”

Graves closed the door.


End file.
